Royalty
by Watch Hound
Summary: Gaara is King and his touch is of blood. –Dark Gaara x Hinata, for his pleasure but mostly yours.


_Royalty_

Dark Gaara x Hinata drabble. Inspired by a sentence in the song 'Rabbit heart' by Florence and the Machine. Alternative Universe alert!

Summary: Gaara is King and his touch is of blood. –Dark Gaara x Hinata, for his pleasure but mostly yours.

I hereby disclaim any rights.

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"_I've acquired a taste of madness.- Darkness fills my heart with calmness ." – Jamie Woon, Night Air._

The King's desert is his private performance stage, with warriors, pirouetting and frolicking, showing them their lately acquired tricks elaborately and their corpses would serve as excellent props for the next orchestrated dance of the macabre. He, an utmost skilled composer, directed his own forces as mindless marionettes –for they were mindless with fear- and with the flick of his index finger another wave of foes would be struck down. The King's desert was a battlefield, checkered black and white only to end up splattered scarlet. He delighted in seeing the enemies struggle vigorously and tenaciously for their valuable lives and would eagerly prove the shimmer of hope in their dull eyes wrong.

Sunagakure, just like the countless other villages, was subject to a series of wars, unstable peace treaties and the customary truce and as Kazekage, Gaara would defeat any power threatening his homelands. He had attended to various councils of Kages, only to be disappointed by the non-existent progress and could only watch with narrow eyes how the negotiations ended inevitably in failure. However, in order to continue the allegiance between Konoha and his own village, he agreed, albeit reluctantly, to betroth himself to one of the Leaf's eligible bachelorettes. There was just one miscalculation in the whole ploy… The Kazekage didn't expect to actually fall in love with another kunoichi. This manifested infatuation caused him to abduct –_no! She came by her own free will_ He would repeatedly claim- his newly appointed Queen.

At morning, Hinata would awake a puddle of silk sheets in a four poster bed with heavy brocade curtains and a collection of goose-feather filled pillows, groping around only to feel an empty spot beside her. She was soaked in sweat and reminisced broadingly her latest nightmare with a few pants leaving her plump lips and a shiver descending down her spine. There was blood, there was **always** blood, sticking to her pale skin, drowning her and steadily but surely fueling her lungs and making her want to flee. Though she realized, although bitterly, that escaping would only inflict more damage and causally lead to more blood. So warily, the indigo-headed girl swayed off the mattress, threw the sheets from her smooth legs and scrutinized the bedchambers precariously.

He could be there, in a shadowy corner, awaiting her approaching form with a wide Cheshire grin and inside a web with sandy threads, the vermillion spider would observe his beloved with white fangs. Bloodline limit activated in apprehension, she was assured by the absence of strong chakra and hesitantly grabbed her robes and clothed herself adequately. Hinata glanced into the glimmering mirror and resisted the urge to smash the ornament in millions of pieces. The King would be utterly displeased if his Queen was wounded and his disapproval was something she could not bear. His menacing green eyes would stare down on her, his index finger would wipe away a few long strands of hair and his lips would tease her earlobe.

And his words would make her **crumble**.

_My Queen_, he would whisper in a velvety husky voice while his gasps fell upon her cheeks, _I secured another victory for our sake_. She would nod and nod and nod and try to forget his declarations. _Aren't you pleased? They tried to separate us. Tried to tear us apart_. She heard the contempt and in trepidation held his larger hand in her tiny one. _But they shan't succeed._ The Queen swallowed a lump down her throat and ushered a smile, because the scent of battle was lingering on his body and she would be the one washing it away.

Like a vermillion spider, the King was seated in his sandy threaded web and she was a harmless innocent fly, buzzing into his welcoming deadly embrace. His elfin tongue darted out and licked the beads of sweat from the nape of her neck. Her clutch on his robes became more firmer as his fingers, wide spread, took in the soft satin-like feel of her flesh and wandered downwards, down, down, down, down until… He finally claimed his prey. Hinata exhaled lowly as he tilted her robes above his head and nipped and kissed his way from her alabaster knees to her upper legs and peeled her underwear away. This wasn't royal behavior, she would muse as her husband –husband? Captor! Tormentor!- playfully and assiduously pleased her in ways she would've never imagined.

Afterwards, the indigo-headed girl would be bare and watch the retreating back of her King as he prepared for another wonderful dance. Sometimes, occasionally, Gaara would invite the girl to serve as his pièce de resistance in a bashful and reckless attempt to disgruntle the audacious enemy. They would snarl at him and try to capture her. Pawns would be shoved forwards by commanders in tents, some would actually manage to come close but just as Hinata was in reach, a vile serpent, existing out of sandy grains, would strangle them from behind. Sometimes, occasionally, she would in morbid fascination observe as their gaping mouths opened and closed in a disturbing pace as their last breaths dissolved in the hot desert air. Whoever claimed the King was the main chess component, never witnessed these matches in which the Queen was helplessly guarded by chakra-infused sand-colored Knights.

"_My Queen, did you enjoy the performance? _His arms encircled her waist and she collided forcefully with his broad pale chest. Her fingers would carefully caress his scalp and pet his tousled scarlet hair. In horror, Hinata tried to forget there were specks of blood on his normally unstained jaw and induced herself to press her mouth against his temple. _Did you recognize some of those sacrificial lambs? _There were traces of pink pressed upon her memory, high-pitched screams from a blonde girl in her eardrum and she nodded listlessly. _We will be victorious. _

So the battlefield remained checkered black and white. Pawns were moved from E5 to D5 only to be obliterated and paint the desert a lovely crimson. Whenever the working day was done, the King would faithfully return to his sand palace, where the Queen would faithfully expect his arrival. Whether she woke up with demons plaguing her mind or quaking tremendously, would only arouse him and he would profoundly promise more ballets in her honor. Because she would not leave him. Never. So dressed in exquisite white and azure blue, Hinata would sit, guarded by a blonde female Bischop and an ebony male Tower, on her ivory pedestal and swallow the terror away, while it left a tangible harsh taste on her palate. He would arrive swiftly, her dark King, with a sanguinary smile in victory, approach her and whisper words, **dangerous** words of honesty into her ear.

Whoever claimed the Queen was the most vicious piece on the chessboard, obviously never witnessed the King conquer.

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I have a fascination with chess... Although I grudgely admit I am not quite a winner in the game.

Lalalala, review to make me smile. -Heart heart-


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